


Begun By Blood, By Blood Undone

by endlesseternities



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad Flirting, Bandages, Betrayal, Blackbeard (Mentioned) - Freeform, Blood, Body Horror, Brothels, Bruises, Character Development, Character Study, Cold Weather, Crossdressing, Cruelty, Cursed Aztec Gold, Cuts, Daggers, Deception, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Member Death, Family Secrets, Female pirates, Fighting, Fire, First Time, Forced Duty, Foul Characters, Golden Age of Piracy, Graphic Description, Green apples, Gun Violence, Historical Accuracy, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurricanes & Typhoons, Implied Sexual Jokes, Lies, Murder, Mutiny, Old Hob - Freeform, Palm Cutting, Past Abuse, Pillaging, Poisoned Blades, Prostitution, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Rum, Rumors, Ruthlessness & Cunning, Secrets, Seduction, Sexual innuendos, Stabbing, Swordplay, Tears, The Black Pearl - Freeform, The Isle de Muerta, The Red Sophronia, Tortuga, Treachery, Underage Drinking, Violence, Weapons, Wounds, attempts at humor, bad memories, cannons, forced decisions, hard-to-get, treasure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-28 10:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12604288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesseternities/pseuds/endlesseternities
Summary: In the events leading towards "The Curse of the Black Pearl," first mate Barbossa meets a young woman who has it in her mind to find the Isle de Muerta; however, it is not without a cost, and as her treachery runs deep, she teaches the first mate how to be more ruthless and cunning, as well as how to set up the perfect betrayal which eventually leads to Sparrow's mutiny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: I am still so pissed off at "DMTNT" for what they did to my beloved captain. I suppose I'm writing this as a way to cope, but until Geoffrey decides to make a ghostly cameo in the next installment (hopefully), I'm lost without him. Seriously, like any other child, I grew up with Barbossa. He was my first character crush, and for the past fourteen years, I've been so in love with him.
> 
> Still, to Geoffrey, my beloved and beautifully aged Australian love, thank you so very much for frightening me and soothing me with that enigmatic pirate lord of yours. 
> 
> I do not own the "Pirates of the Caribbean," save for three characters of my own making; people, places, things, terms, ports and ships (besides the Red Sophronia) do not belong to me. There is no profit in this, and this is written for fun. Comments and kudos appreciated.
> 
> P.S: I wanted a female villain, so therefore you've got one. In these five films, it's been nothing but men as the leading baddie, and I thought to myself, "Can't women be cruel and unyielding too?"

“You do realize that the Isle’s a story, right, girl?”

I hadn’t the ambition to deal with an old codswallop’s stories. It was here in Tortuga that I’d find someone to give me a ship, a heading, something, or it would be nothing at all. I wasn’t in the ideal mind-set to be dealing with scared old men who probably hadn’t sailed a day in their miserable lives.

But to appeal to the old man before me, as he clutched his drink and his cane made of flustered bamboo, I put my hands on my hips and arched a brow.

“Of course, sir, there are those who would be willing to say anything to get a next round of rum, am I right? If you help me, I will be more than obliged to give you a new coin or two to get yourself a whole, unopened bottle. What do you say?”

The bristles of his walrus-like mustache were prompt. Wild eyebrows of white were pulled upright in unsure measures. He pursed his lips in utter disbelief and tried to steer clear of my chocolate-colored eyes, but instead, I withdrew a bag of coins and pulled out three shining shillings for him to observe. Almost immediately, he found the will to speak up. I put the coins into his hand and he almost gasped for air.

“At the inn on the right side of the port, you’ll be findin’ a man who already has his own ship and such, missy. I dunno his name, but I reckon he won’t be hard to miss; all clad in black and grey he is. I be thinkin’ he’d be able to tell you more about the Isle de Muerta than I could. Bless you much,” he said, his lips still moving with delight.

I nodded in confirmation and put the bag back into my embroidered pocket. I started to walk down the mud-riddled thoroughfair and into the bleakness that was Tortuga’s streets. The maids who walked outside their taverns, they spilled all manners of fluids into the ditches dug by unsavory men. Buckets of phlegm, bile, sailor’s vomit and of course, entrails, were all dumped out and then, taken over to the trough to be rinsed and cleaned. It was a disgusting business, and glad was I not to deal with any of it.

For now, I walked by myself towards the only other inn I could think of. It was called the Ram’s Head, for truly, every sailor and merchant who walked in their always collided fists with jaw and forehead. Blood was almost always present. The sounds of profanity and gun play were nothing new to me.

Of course, every man had his due coming, but over the slightest things as a woman or a muddled jacket? Please--- there were things greater to argue over. Gold was one of them for sure, and as I turned the corner, I could smell it, fresh-forged and procured. There wasn’t a single bank on this island that I knew of, and for good reason. Tortuga was a pirate’s port, and a man foolish enough to leave his currency here was an idiot. The blacksmith’s shop I passed was closed but the smoke still burned from its chimney. It was a sure sign that a man inside was at the ready in case a pirate needed new steel.

I was about to walk onto the new boardwalk laid down when suddenly two unsavory men came ‘round the other corner. Both were equally drunk and inebriated that I hadn’t the chance to pass unseen. I hadn’t the time for this. One man, burly and taller than the other, started to laugh at me. He pointed towards my chest and I knew then that his lewd comments weren’t that far behind.

I cleared my throat and smiled. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

The tinier one gawked at me and giggled, almost girlish. I arched a brow in mild amusement and then steadied myself. The taller one spat out his rum at my feet the moment he approached, and he gripped my throat.

“What’s a pretty lit’le thing like you doin’ walking all alone out ‘ere? Shouldn’t you have some protection or something if ye are? Look at her, Colt. All fat and stout,” he sneered, his rancid breath close.

I may have been known to be on the heavier side, but I was nowhere near ugly or stout as this pirate said. I was also a lot quicker for my slightly heavy size too, but I guaranteed that they did not know that. I had no choice but to stand in place as both men observed me. The smaller one, identified as Colt, walked behind me and chuckled half-heartedly.

“Why, she’s dressin’ like a man! You can see ‘er bandages, Travin! She’s got a nice pair and she’s ruinin’ them by flattening them like to-ma-toes.”

Their gestures were as equally boring as their remarks. Hadn’t I heard this already? Hadn’t men found better ways to insult a woman who could eventually bring herself to fight them? I was this close to taking my sword out, but fools that they were, they couldn’t realize how important and opportune it was to have a dagger hidden in the folds of one’s sleeve.

I threw my arm down quickly and the dagger fell out, the hilt landing in the palm of my hand. I kneed this Travin in the groin and he fell to the ground. The one behind me gasped and grunted as I allowed my right heel to kick him in the stomach. I used the dagger and sliced through his neck as if it were the shawl of an old woman. Travin, however, he was the one who gave me a harder course to take.

He punched me in the stomach and I fell backward, the dagger collapsing out of my hand. I rolled onto my knees and kept one to the far right, extending my hand downward as I gasped for air. He had a mean hook but it was nothing that I wasn’t used to. I spat out some blood and coughed briefly.

“You like pain, lit’le woman? Play with a big man and you’ll find it out quicker than you can blink.”

I laughed and scoffed at him. “Is that supposed to frighten me like it would a child? If only you men had the common courtesy to keep your boons where we women do.”

He was about to punch me again, but in his stance, he stopped. “What’s that supposed to me?”

  
Oh, what an idiot! He had no idea as to what I referenced, and for that, I could tell he was dim. I picked my dagger back up and as I extended my arm backward, I spoke once more to him.

“I meant that a woman has her own set of boons and that she carries them whole-hardheartedly in her brassiere,” I laughed, my lips pulled back and my brow arched as I shook my head in a jiggle.

With that, I flipped my dagger from hilt to blade in my hand and threw it strongly at his chest. It pierced his chest and I saw him fall back onto the ground, this time with his whole weight distributed to the mud. He lay dead and so did his stench-ridden companion. It was only fair game and after all, when one was smaller, weak and feeble, it did not pay for one to be alone. But I was not weak or feeble or small. I was a female, with a weight and a man’s cunning to back her play. I was neither ugly nor beautiful, but exceptional. Whether a man cared to acknowledge it or not, I didn’t care. I was me.

\--

The casual admittance of men and women alike were allowed in the inn.

I entered and saw shards of broken bottles fly, same for splinters of broken wooden stools and chairs, and heard the sounds of guns being fired. The smell of gunpowder was undoubtedly pleasant to me, and because of the nature of said establishment, it wasn’t without its merits. It was everywhere and I adored it greatly. However, once I entered, it turned as silent as the grave.

I hadn’t even seen that Colt’s blood smear onto my hilt in time, and I surely didn’t see the way his blood stained my already red vest. It was darker upon the design and seeped through like black ink from an octopus. Women quivered and men whispered. I walked over to the bar and put out an old shilling in front of the keep.

“Rum and make it fast,” I said. “I’m thinking it’s going to be a long night, so I’ll need all the drink I can swig down.”

Samuel, the barkeep from years before, stood before me and nodded without hesitation. He didn’t give me a mug to put my rum in, but instead gave me a bottle of his best. He knew me. He knew that the simple, poorly-made rum wouldn’t do. No, he gave me the sort of rum best brewed in the coasts of the West Indies. The scent of savory spice was in the liquid and when I unscrewed the cork, I took a deep drink and felt the rum run down my throat, stinging it sweetly.

“Oi, ain’t you that captain?” a man said.

I paused and looked to the side without turning. I swept beads of alcohol off my lips and spoke with clear, crisp words. “Well, my dear man, there are a lot of captains in this world, and I wouldn’t know if I was the one you were thinking of. Care to be a bit more specific?”

The others in the room laughed at him. The laughing didn’t last long though as the man started up again. “Yeah, yeah you’re the one alright. I’ve seen ya ship sailing from Barbados to Tortuga this past year. You’re Captain Michelina. You’re the one who sails the Red Sophronia!”

Damn me, damn me all to hell, I thought.

I finally turned around and leaned up against the bar. “Your point being?”

The man hushed his tone but still spoke up loud enough for all to hear.

“ _You’ve raided countless villages with your men, you’ve stolen countless goods and keep no hostages. You kill only men, but you always leave the women, elderly folk and children alive, but strung up in cages. I know of you alright. You sail that damned plague ship and leave the bodies behind for all the gulls to peck at_. Why is it that you’re here in Tortuga?”

The silence was deafening for minutes. No one around was about to speak, except for the port drunk who’d entered right on cue, and who had also been the old man I had spoken to an hour before. His old stance was shaking as he held himself up on a carved crutch. He pointed at me with a shaking, lithe finger, his laughter squeaking, raw and old in its tones.

“Cause, you cronies, she be lookin’ for a way to the Isla de Muerta! She be lookin’ for a way to make herself immortal.”

Men and women alike began to spat onto the floor. There was an omen mentioned of that island, yes, but that didn’t stop the people from being superstitious enough to spit at the name. Their phlegm landed near my feet and as I looked down, the roar of thunder came overhead. Of course. As if it wasn’t legitimate enough for the haunted name to bring a storm. I rolled my eyes and groaned.

“It’s for personal and private matters only. No immortality for me I’m afraid. And I don’t intend to take Tortuga if that’s what you’re wondering. I only came here to---”

“It doesn’t mat’er!” a woman cried out. “You’re said to keep the skins of your enemies in your ship’s cabin! Leavin’ ‘em as all muscle and bone for the predators wherever you may go!”

“Yeah, you’re the one who danced with Old Hob at the stroke of midnight! My sister said she saw you in Martinique, waltzing with ‘im out of your cabin!”

I rose a hand, laughing again. “Ladies, gents, that’s all very well and good, but don’t you know hearsay when you hear it?”

“What be hearsay?”

My fingers rubbed at my temples. If ever there was a time to be struck by lightning, I’d really wish it to come down on me right bloody now.

The winds outside were growing harsher. I could hear the beat of the rain upon the roof of the inn, and as I stepped towards the doorway, I looked across the thoroughfair, out past the docks and into the watery bay where the other ships lay strung. My eyes caught glimpses of everything and nothing in a split second.

The weather tonight hadn’t been natural in my opinion.

I looked to the sky, and with the moon there, the clouds seemed dazed in a purplish-blue color, their weight not soaked with blackness. I grew confused and then saw another shape across the ripples of the water. The moon had lost its white glow and had grown yellow. A shift of the shadows had come too, but the palm trees swayed in the utter aberrant silence. The others flocked behind me and when the thunder boomed, they stepped back, for the sound was the loudest we’d ever heard it in a long while.

An old maid piped up, saying, “You mark me words! _She’s brought Jones with her!_ ”

I really didn’t want a panic started, so nevertheless, I gathered my bottle from the bar and made my way back towards the door. I was about to leave when suddenly a man’s arm went in front of me, blocking me. I damn near struck him when I saw that he too was a sea-faring captain. He wore a wide, dark grey hat with a bulbous black feather, his face scarred on the left side, his mustache and beard scraggly with the matted sense. My right brow arched and I scoffed at him and waited to hear him.

“I hear ye be lookin’ for the Isla de Muerta,” he said.

Pursing my lips and squinting, nodding sarcastically, I replied. “Yes--- I thought that much was obvious by now.”

“Oh,” he chortled, “I guess ye wouldn’t mind then if I followed ye and spoke about it along the way.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Feel free to tag along.”

\--

We both walked out into the crud weather and made for the docks. As I kept my eyes half-closed, his kept his hat in one hand and fought as I did against the swipe of the wind. His hair kept getting stuck across his large nose and often times sat across his lips. He spat it out and tried to keep his eyes open long enough to glimpse where we’d walk. I lightly laughed at him and shook my head.

“So what be yer name?” he inquired.

The wind swept me to the side and I almost lost my balance. It was hurriance-like wind but yet, there was no indefinite sign that there was one steadfast approaching. I looked at him briefly and replied.

“My name is Michelina Rovare,” I shouted, the thunder loud and lightning white-sharp. “I am the captain of the Red Sophronia in case you didn’t hear it earlier.”

“Aye, I did. Ye mustn’t worry about trifling little folk. They’re already afraid of their own shadow, so you can imagine that when ye walked in how they almost sha---”

He lost his footing and knocked into me. I caught him and held him upright. I didn’t even flinch as his weight crushed into mine, and I kept him close by, in case he’d need my support again. I watched as the men from my ship waved at me. The docks were rickety and were thus unsafe. I ran up the plank lowered and invited the man to follow. My first mates were standing at the side and on the rail of the ship. The waves rushed the underbelly of the ship and rocked the wood, the whole ship’s rigging loud.

“Get down, you bloody fools, unless you want to be swept off deck!” I ordered.

The one got down and when the man followed behind me, the two then stood beside one another and blocked him. I turned around in the rain and motioned for them to part.

“He’s with me, so let him through!”

They parted and let him by. “Aye, Captain.”

\--

We entered my cabin and the rest of the crew went below deck.

I threw the man a new dry shirt and began to shift out of my wet clothes. I walked behind a screen and I switched from my coat to a white blouse. The bandages across my chest were still intact and weren’t ruined. My breasts, large as they were, were hidden though I didn’t know how well from plain sight. I dried myself off with a large rag. The ripples of water fell down my body in small rivers, and as I emerged from behind, the man was still there, freshly changed out of his own coat and into the shirt I’d given him.

I sat down at the table and made myself comfortable. My hand reached down and I motioned him to join me. He nodded once and pulled out a chair. As we situated at the table, I passed him a bowl of fruit and allowed him to take what he wanted. He took a green apple and to my surprise, bit into it as if he were starving. I chuckled once and sighed, shaking my wet hair to lie on my shoulders.

“So,” I said, crossing my fingers together on my lap. “What can I do for you, sir?”

He almost choked. “Oh I’m not a sir, missy, but I be thankin’ ye. As for the business before, I was wondering if ye had a guide yet.”

My interest was peaked.

He certainly had my attention and as I steadied myself, I rested my feet on the table and reclined to relax. I watched him with intent eyes, curious eyes, and when he saw that I was intrigued, he rested his elbows and propped himself on the space before him.

“I reckon that means ye haven’t found one yet.”

“No, I have not. But if I may ask--- have you any experience sailing to this island?”

He shook his head and took another bite. “Not in the slightest, missy, but I can find it.”

My lips parted and a fruitful hum escaped. “How is it that you’d be able to find an island in the regard that nobody knows where it is, and yet at the same time tell me that you’ve never been?”

“Ye’d be surprised what ye can find when yer not lookin’ for somethin’ that was ne’er meant to be found in the first place. With an appropriate compass, I’ll be able to find it for you.”

What a rambler but still, he had intellect. He wasn’t stupid as most men I’d met, and this one, he was cunning but not nearly enough. He was still soft beneath that flesh of his, I could tell. In this world, one needed boons of steel, a sword of good strength and a solemn mind that wouldn’t fail them in a place and situation of turmoil, of panic. I could tell he had a sober mind but still, he lacked a frivolous imagination when it came to defeating one’s enemy.

“No,” I said.

He stared at me from across the table and poised the apple in his hand, away from his face. “No?”

“No,” I repeated. “You want me to blindly trust you with some strange little compass and assure myself, that if I leave myself, my ship and my crew in your care, that you’ll help me find the Isla de Muerta with no treachery involved? Hmm. Something tells me you’re following orders.”

I went for my knife again and withdrew it. Its golden hilt was decorated with rubies, emeralds and pearls. Stolen it was, but perfected in all its great art. I smiled at the man opposite me and without a single thought more, threw the knife to the apple as he bit into again. He looked down at it and threw the apple towards me. The knife clamored to the top of the mahogany table, and how I chuckled then.

“Ye’re a crazy little wench, and I’ll be advisin’ ye **not** to do that again,” he growled.

I picked up my knife and stabbed his apple with it, whereas I bit into the same place and savored the sour sweetness of the fruit. As I swallowed the piece, I sighed. “Are you angry with me, sir?”

He stood up and walked over to me. I immediately kicked back the chair and prepared myself. He took my wrist hard and tried to wrench my knife out of my hand, but oh, I was quicker. I threw him down onto the table before us and pinned him there. I made a ‘tsk’ sound with my tongue, my lips and teeth.

“Attacking a young captain in her own cabin,” I mock-laughed. “Whatever shall I do?”

He kneed my hip and as I jolted forward, downward, he pinned me down and took the apple off the silver blade with his mouth. He bit into it once and stood upright, one hand on his hip, the other holding the apple. He licked his lips once and shook his own head.

“Ye little French lambs, ye’ve got no sense of propriety or dignity. Give me a day or so, and I’ll procure the compass that’ll lead us to the Isle de Muerta. I’ll get ye there, but not without me own terms. If ye’re still interested,” he said, walking towards my cabin door, “ye can find me over yonder on the other side of the port.”

I sat up and as my black hair fell over my shoulder, I began to breathe in a solemn, hushed rhythm, one laced with little remnants of lust. I’d never been overpowered by a man before, I swore to myself that I’d return the favor.

“Two things, sir. First being this: where shall I find you, what ship?”

As he opened the door and waited in the entering rain, he replied. “The ship has rattled, torn black sails, its body is solid wood and there’s a grizzled mer-woman on the front, missy. Ye can’t miss it.”

I stood and walked over to him slowly, my face inches from his own as I halted. “And your name?”

Our eyes caught a gaze for the time being, and as I tilted my head to the side, resting my own hand on my hip, he gave me a revolting smile, one where his half-rotted and gold teeth were exposed. He swiped a thread of hair away and lowly growled with a soft hushed tone. His breath was repulsive, save for the fruit he’d just eaten. I felt the closeness of his body but at the same time, was prepared.

“The name be Barbossa.”

He gripped my hand in his own, and it felt devilish. His hand was utterly warm, save for the rings he wore. He shook my hand once and then left. The sound of his footsteps trailed off into the distance and as the rain finally began to fade, began to stop with the thunder and lightning, my mind raced.

 


	2. Chapter 2

My breasts were sore and so I cut the bandages off.

I lit a few candles in my cabin and then reclined on the feather-stuffed bed that lay on its stand. I put my shirt back on and curled onto my side, thinking as captains did about where to go and what to do next. My eyes closed as I became lost in coherent thought. The scent of the sea salt was prompt in my nostrils. I hadn’t felt the urge to sleep so soundly since leaving home all those years ago.

After all, I’d been in the realm of piracy for ten years, and celebrated my small flight as as a renegade captain only a few months after my twentieth birthday. I was still young in years and sight, but my bones felt older. I wondered if there was a curse upon me, for truly I felt like I was tortured with aches and pains beyond relief’s touch. The men were outside still from what I could hear, and as the crack of dawn appeared, the cabin became illuminated briefly with the red light of the sun’s rays.

The sound of light yelling and the sway of the rigging was in my ears as well.

I was about to fall completely asleep, but then the deckhand Carren came and pounded on my door.

“Captain! Captain, you awake?”

I raced out of bed and started to make towards the screen. I couldn’t let them see me like this. They knew I was a woman but they would never see my brassier untamed, unwrapped. I ran over to the door first before hiding behind the screen, and when the door unlocked, Carren entered and wiped himself off. I threw my shirt off momentarily and began to wrap my breasts again, this time with new, clean bandages.

“What is is, Carren?”

He paused for a moment and coughed. “You’re not goin’ number two, are you?”

I scoffed and sneered at him unseen, but shook my head. “No, no! Now what is it?”

“Oh!” He stammered forward and didn’t know what to do. I could see from his shadow that he was holding something in his hand, and when I finished wrapping, I threw my shirt back on and escaped from behind the screen.

“Let me see what it is you’ve got, Carren.”

I took it from him and he hesitantly became muddled. “What’s it say?”

I unrolled it. It was from the inevitable man I’d come to know as Barbossa. His handwriting was not without its difficulties, but as I dismissed Carren, he became confused but then he shrugged his shoulders and left me, closing the heavy mahogany door. I sat down on my bed and began to read it.

 _Hate to be a bother of you, missy, but would ye mind coming to meet me at the Ram’s Head tonight? I’ve got details I’m thinkin’ ye’d like to hear. Go to the barkeep and ask for the key to the expensive suite. I’ll have a mate of mine posted outside the door to keep watch; he’s mighty deaf anyhow. And don’t bother comin’ with anyone of yer crew. I know French lambs such as yerselves like to keep yer weapons hidden. Perhaps in that bosom of ye? B_.

My cheeks went red and my mouth fell open. “Oh, you old bastard.”

It had definitely been the first time someone mentioned my pair in a note before, but he was perhaps learning fast. I deduced this between the letters he’d written, but as he mentioned not to bring someone of my own crew, how much of a fool did he think me? Did he honestly think me ignorant?

I had waited so long to find that island, and even though he’d perhaps suffer me through it all, it would be a risk I would have to be willing to take. With the winds now softly rocking the ship again, I felt the urge to grab my coat. It was still slightly damp but nothing enough that would cause me to become ill with consumption. My hands went through the sleeves and the black beads shined in their embroidered places upon my coat. I opened the door and started to make way towards the deck.

“Captain’s out!” the men shouted.

I was rushed then by my two first mates, Alexander and Chretien. They were brothers, full-blooded through and through; their moves copied another’s and it was apparent through the brown eyes, dark hair and features that they were brothers. One shoved the other out of the way and nudged him to the side with his hip. I marvelled at them and shook my head, smiling at their wily attempts to get to me.

“Mornin’, Captain Michelina,” Chretien said. “Any orders to be followed right away?”

I nodded. “I’m going ashore for a few hours, and perhaps won’t be back until later on. I want you to sail the ship towards the other side of the port and dock there beside that one.”

I pointed across the way and towards the ship that Barbossa had mentioned hours beforehand. It was still there, but at the moment, that half of the island seemed cold, seemed shadowy and foggy though truthfully, it was still an early morning yet. I didn’t trust its sight at all. When people thought mine to be a plague ship, perhaps in full they had misjudged the one that actually cast the grim appearance.

Alexander joined us then and he shuddered. “T-t-that one, Captain? Beside that?”

“Yes, boys. I want her over there and as I’ve told Chretien, I don’t expect to be back until noon maybe. If anything else, do yourselves a favor and go ashore. Take a few baths and get yourselves ready. We’ll be leaving with new directions soon. I’ll be back.”

“Yes, Captain,” they said in unison.

I left the ship and made my way towards the brothel. It was the only one with suitable clothes for women who liked to pretend themselves men, and with the new selections from French imports, I figured it’d be good time for me to make myself look presentable. I hadn’t a proper bath since docking three nights ago, as my own brass bath had been ruined. I got there within fifteen minutes after six, and the woman owner was but all too proud to receive my patronage.

“Top of the morning, Captain,” she said, her toothy half-grin showing. “What’ll it be today?”

“A bath and some new clothes I suspect,” I replied. “Have you gotten anything new? Something say, black, white and red?”

She knew me all too well.

I’d been a customer of hers for the past five years, since my fifteenth year to be exact, and never once was I disappointed in what she had to offer. As I bathed, I looked outside the window to the far reaches of the island. The brothels across were rivals and the taverns beside them were nothing short of shocking. The men there acted more vigorous and scandalous than the women who sold their bodies. I soaked in the suds and rested my head against the back of the tub, slowing washing myself.

A few young women came in and asked me to tell stories of where I’d been, who I’d met and what I’d done, but the owner rushed them off and brought in my clothes. All the girls were disappointed and they mewled, but I vowed to them that next time I made port, that I would bring new stories with me.

“Well, ‘ere you be, Captain. We’ve got some lovely silks ‘ere for you. A red vest with black design, a coat almost of the same manner as the one you currently own, though it’s got red stitchin’ to it. Three white shirts and some new thin pants for you as well. Oh, and will you be needin’ some new boots, dear?”

Before I could answer, a gunshot outside the door entered our ears. The girls I’d meet before were screaming, were hollering as they rushed. Three thuds hit the floor and I knew the women then to be dead. A few steps were echoing on the wooden floor and as the owner raced towards the side door, she barricaded it before she herself was shot. It had entered through the door and thus, she fell limp to the Oriental rug. I went for my pistol but was ultimately too late. The door was kicked in immediately.

A whining man groaned, “This ain’t where the rich people keep their stash, idiot!”

Another one entered as he did and as I stood, naked as a babe but covered in suds, the two got a good look at me before I could adequately move out of the tub. Their eyes were drawn obviously to my nether regions and brassier, and how embarrassing that was. It wasn’t the kind of attention I was hoping for, but when they went to go near me, I fired off a warning shot.

“Get out now,” I snarled.

One quipped in an immediate fashion, spitting as he chortled. “You can threaten us all you like, but we’re the ones with the swords and clothes, my lady.”

Their throats were cut then as a familiar face entered behind them. The steel ran cold across their necks and red appeared. I tried to step but slipped and fell out of the tub. I hit my head on the corner of a side table then and began to see streaks of black in my vision. The sounds of looting were no uncommon thing to me. Glass was being broken downstairs and more shots were being fired, always.

I groaned and turned onto my side. My eyes were sinking shut and the last thing I saw before blacking out was that same scraggly beard. His arms enclosed around me with a long thin sheet, and when I pointed to the clothes, he grabbed those too and placed them atop of me. He carried me down the stairs and suddenly, it was as if the sky turned dark like the night, and the fogged rolled in heavily.

As to what was happening, I had not an idea.

\--

When I awoke next, I was back in my cabin.

My head was reeling with a voracious ache I’d never felt before, and from the sight of the window, the night-like conditions were still there. It was shaded outside and the men, my men, were still shouting orders and commending the deck as I ordered them to. I looked for my pistol as my vision blurred in and out.

“Don’t mean to cause you disrespect, missy,” the voice said, “but I’m not lettin’ a headstruck girl hold a pistol till she can see straight again.”

I looked across the room and saw him sitting there, a smug expression eclipsed on his lithe, hairy face. I became red with rage. I shook my head but that added to the pain only a little bit more.

“Might I recommend some rum?”

I grabbed a nearby book and threw it near his head. “I’ll recommend you shut it!”

A few throaty chuckles escaped him then and I heard them ring in my ears. Since hitting my head, I could hear echoes of everything: shouts, shots, ringings, words. I turned onto my side and gripped the pillow. My lips parted to let a few groans escape. I closed my eyes half-way, especially as I realized something else. There were new bandages on my chest. I sat up and clutched onto my hidden breast.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Do what?”

I violently blinked my eyes once and looked at him darkly. “How did I get new bandages on? I didn’t have time to put them on.”

He was peeling the skin back on a simple piece of green apple. He bit into it and started speak while still chewing the piece; bits of juice slid down his beard and nestle its way into the matted mess.

“I put them on ye while ye were sleeping. Figured it’d be the best way since ye were already out cold.”

I protested and stood up off my bed. He rushed me then and pushed me back down, throwing off my balance. He elevated my legs and put a hand on my shoulder, shoving me back down on the pillows.

“But don’t worry, missy--- I promise I haven’t besmirched ye.”

Now my veins were full of fire-like substance. My blood boiled. My heart raced. He was so ignorant but yet, he was charming; a charming bastard was what he was, but at least, I could sense the hint of truth to his words. I wanted to slap him across the face but I hadn’t the strength at the moment to do so.

But it worried me--- I hadn’t told anyone of my bodily prospects, hadn’t shown. No wait--- he must have seen me! He must’ve put all of my clothes on but forgot to mention that. He was a shrewd idiot, perhaps a disgusting old man but what did I know? He saved me at least and a thanks was in order, even if I was angered as all hell with him.

“Thank you,” I said coldly, turning my head away.

“For what?”

I faced my eye to his. “You know what I mean.”

“Now, now, ye’re not gonna hold that against me, are ye?”

I grunted as I sat up again, slowly, knocking his hand away. “I should. You dressed me while I was unconscious. You looked me over, you searched my body. Isn’t that considered a little promiscuous and perhaps inappropriate?”

He shook his head and he too rolled his eyes as if he were a child. He threw the apple down, turned away and stepped, then turned to face me again as he put his hands on his hips. “Oh, so ye would rather have been naked as a babe, running through Tortuga in nought but a bed sheet, hmm? Well I’m sorry, little wench. Perhaps I should’ve let all of the foul-minded cockroaches take in a sight of ye.”

I could sense he was enjoying this, tormenting me, toying with me as if I were a little child he could manipulate. But fool that he was, I was impenetrable to such things. I removed myself from my bed and strode over to him, striking his face. He simply grinned a closed grin and gave me a devout look.

“Don’t you even think about it,” I said, half-smiling myself.

“Ye don’t seem awfully upset now.”

I stared him in the face. I’d met with men far crueller and lewd than he, but yet, I was defenseless. I hadn’t met one like him per say, and to judge his actions before their final reveal was a little too early. But he had no idea of how a woman could bend a man to her will. It was in our blood whether he knew it or not; perhaps he did, but who was I to ask.

I crossed my arms across my chest and spat, “You are an insignificant little man trying to threaten me. I’ve been through more than you no doubt, and I’ve lived to tell the tale. I don’t know what you’ve gone through and quite frankly, I don’t care. I am looking out for me and mine and when the time comes, I will be the one to make sure that things go according to plan no matter what the costs. That’s what a good captain does. And believe me--- I would happily burn your precious Black Pearl to the depths of Davy Jones’ locker to achieve it.”

He went to grab my wrist and as he did, he pulled my back to meet his chest. He wrapped his arms around mine and kept me pinned, standing there as his wrought breath entered my ear. I sensed that he was no longer amused but determined.

“I can lead you to the Isle, but you need to help me first.”

I growled and breathed erratically. “What do you want, Barbossa?”

“Your help obviously,” he said. “I’ve got this captain who won’t shut his mouth and I’m in need of a cunning mind to help me get rid of ‘im. I know most places on this earth but there’s one I can’t seem to find on my own, as embarrassed as I am to say. There’ll be a profit in it for ye. Yer life, yer ship and ye crew is what ye’ll be gettin’ in return.”

I shook my head. As if it wasn’t a ‘profit’ I hadn’t heard before.

“Your words are empty. Show him to me and I’ll get rid of him myself. It shouldn’t be too hard. And if you think to cross me, that’ll be so unwise. My crew will defend me to the death. Cut me and you’ll be drawn and quartered. You may think I’m blind but I’m not. I was born at night, not last night. I know exactly the kind of profit you’re looking to share, but I tell you now: I will not be a common whore for your liking. I have more dignity than that.”

Barbossa’s eyes became wide and as I stared into his yellowish-whites, his blue irises, matching that of the storm, stared into mine and he grabbed me hard. Through half-opened lids, he watched me close.

“Ye’re not an absent-minded girl, I’ll give ye that.”

His hand gripped both of my wrists as he turned me. Our chests met and as I watched his every move, I heard as my crew carried on with their chores and duties. I swallowed excruciatingly hard and turned my face to the side. The stench of his body odor was enough to make me gag but I suffered through it.

“Name your price, bastard,” I said, my lips shivering, my heart racing. “I’ll go through with it as long as you don’t cross me. I just hope you’re not compensating for something you don’t have.”

He quirked a brow and took my jaw into his calloused hand. “Ye get to be my bed warmer once I’m captain, and I’ll make the Black Pearl the sister ship to the Red Sophronia. Ye’ll get fifty percent of me plunder and I’ll make ye co-captain.”

I gave a closed smile and shook my head. “You’re too smart for your own good. You know that’ll never happen; I can tell you’re not the type to trust people easily and so, in your mind, the position of me becoming your bed warmer would happen quicker than me being co-captain. Like I said: I was born at night, not last night. Now, what is this captain’s name?”

He released me and stepped back. “His name be Sparrow, and he’s been a pain in me side since the beginnin’. Help me get rid of him and I’ll keep my word,” he said, reeling a hand out to be shaken. “Deal?”

It was a bountiful amount of time before I actually considered taking him up on his ‘offer.’ I wanted to hesitate but I knew deep down that would show weakness. And for all means, I was not weak. I was stronger and more intelligent than Old Hob himself, and I wouldn’t let this cut-throat prove me wrong.

I grasped his hand and shook it.

“Deal.”

\--

When night came, it hardly made a difference.

The waves weren’t any lighter in their colors, and they remained placid, bluer than a dark depth. The clouds were raven black with alignments of slate-grey on their edges. The moon was risen behind them and thus, the rhythm of the ocean was unaffected. The foam of the sea sprayed against the bottoms of the ships still docked, and as the Red Sophronia sat there still in the bay, I waited for him.

Barbossa said that my ship was to sail behind the Black Pearl in an hour’s time, and he discussed the plans with me, ones that weren’t needed to be said in the presence of those at the Ram’s Head. I was already dressed in my finest clothes when I began to rearrange the spaces in my cabin. I sharpened my sword and dagger as I sat upon my bed. The stone ran against the blade and I heard the sharp ringing in my ears. Each swipe sounded crisp, clean. I wondered when the next time would be when I’d be able to run my sword through a new chest. I missed the fanciful fighting. It’d been three years since my last fight, but gods, did I miss it without pause. My crew was only reformed at the time and at Barbados did it seem opportune to make port. There had been fresh stocks of fruits, spices, eggs; the steel and iron had been replenished and the men were able to pick up new clothes and finer boots, as well as more supplies for the ship itself. The sails I had custom-dyed, a color as red and dark as the enemy’s blood. Most called me too dark, but I cared not.

I wanted the Red Sophronia to be the ship that both men and women would fear, for her to be the ship that would seduce that of Jones’ imagination to the fullest extent. I was always very good at achieving what I wanted to accomplish, whether it be a blood-drenched fight, a plundering raid, or quite simply, for the sake of perhaps dishonest diplomacy. The men in the West Indies called her a plague ship, but I still knew her to be mine. The ship had been my grandfather’s, and so, she would not be abandoned.

The witch-women of Martinique whispered in their slave languages about me and any other pirate; they said my ship was always stained in bittersweet red, that their omens did not fare well for all those aboard the wooden deck. Voodoo priestess or not, I did not care for their words per say.

I always obliged by my own laws.

Piracy was in my blood and I was not about to let it die out in my family. If I would ever have children, my child, whether it be a son or daughter, would inherit the ship and carry on the name Rovare. It was destiny for us and to abide to another kind of life of was treachery, and not to mention an utmost betrayal to my grandfather, he who had built this ship with his hands and with the help of his crew.

But, I had family elsewhere and whether they cared or not about my existence made no impact on me.

I knew none of them would engage in piracy, save for two souls I knew, but I did not know what to make of it; whether they’d accept my offer to take up the Red Sophronia was beyond me. But, the ship was loyal, true and old. She’d wait at the end of the world for my bloodline and not even the King himself would be able to take her away. Her splinters would remain upon the ocean for years to come.

\--

Carren came to the door and knocked. “Captain? That Barbossa man be here again.”

Of course, why wouldn’t he be? “Let him in, Carren.”

The door was unlocked and in he stepped. His clothes were almost a darkly grey, with a sash around his waist that was yellow, his vest brown with design, and the hat he wore, along with that grotesque feather, sat over his head and cast a shapely shadow upon his oval face. I pushed out a chair for him and when he sat down, he did not seem pleased.

“What is it?” I asked.

Before Barbossa could even answer, a fellow fell into my cabin by accident. He fell to the floor and grunted, shaking his head, making an odd sound. He stood upright then and brushed himself and shook.

“Ghastly weather, i’nt it?” the man said.

My mouth fell half-way open and my brows both arched. This man, this utter buffoon, must have been his captain. He had long black dreadlocks that hung past his shoulders, beads and a metal coin upon one braid with a red bandana upon his head; his eyes were smeared around with kohl and he had total balance issues, for when he walked into my cabin, I saw that Barbossa was trying to avoid eye contact.

“Who are you?” I inquired. “And what in the bloody hell are you doing in my cabin?”

He stammered over and kept a smug grin upon his face. He held onto his belt and poised himself innocently, though truly I wasn’t ignorant in thinking that he wasn’t up to something. One hand brushed off bits of seaweed and he chuckled. The man reached for an apple and bit into it, rubbing it on his sleeve but not before belching loudly.

“Oh, terribly sorry. I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, and might I say what a lovely little ship you have. It’s truly a beauty, I mean it. Love how you’ve got a mermaid like the Pearl’s,” he said, his gold tooth shining.

I crossed my arms then and shook my head, a half-smile twisted onto my pale face. I leaned against the side of my table and I sighed with a casual remark. “Oh, that’s not a mermaid, Sparrow. That happens to be one of the very few women crew members who tried to mutiny against me. I cut off a shark’s tail and stuck her upper half in it.”

He burped obnoxiously and allowed his eyes to go wide. Clearly I’d struck an ominous chord, but oh, the look on his face was absolutely priceless. Barbossa’s cheeks went red as he gave me a sideways glance; perhaps he admired me, perhaps he didn’t. I wasn’t about to ask, because I was too occupied in causing his captain discomfort.

Sparrow squeaked like a child then, his octave raised. “Where’s her lower half then?”

I returned the favorable smile. “ _In the shark’s upper half_.”

“Oh,” Sparrow bluntly said. “Well, at least you know how to make a lasting impression.”

Now it was Barbossa who interrupted. “Indeed she does, Captain, indeed she does. Now, why don’t you tell her why we came over here?”

Sparrow squeaked again and pulled out a compass from his waist pocket. It seemed broken, useless. He held it out on a string and it dangled in front of me. He seemed almost frightened to come near me, but tip-toeing, literally, he plopped it in my hand and scurried back behind Barbossa.

Barbossa nudged him to stand in the open and as one of my brows arched, Sparrow spoke.

“Now, that compass can lead you to whatever your little heart desires. It can take places to people, eh, er--- people to places I mean, and plus, it’ll give you a clear heading. It’s like a toy for big children.”

“Now you see, Sparrow, I’m not a big child. I’m a woman,” I said, slowly, teasingly walking over towards him, “and I always get what I want. By your leave, the Red Sophronia will sail behind the Black Pearl. You lead me to the Isle de Muerta, and I promise that you won’t regret it. Alright?”

“Captain.”

Barbossa and I both looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

Sparrow bit his fingernails and cowered still as if he were a girl. “ _Captain_ \--- Captain Jack Sparrow.”

“Oh, well, forgive me for raining on your march, Captain,” I emphasised, my voice dripping sarcasm.

Barbossa walked over towards me and passed me a new scroll. He put it into my hand and the scent of the paper was fresh, but not without its merits of a newfound aroma. He grabbed Sparrow then and ushered him out my door.

“Watch for the lantern signal,” Barbossa added. “And if ye can, send me a correspondence, eh?”

I waved at them both and with that same smug expression on his face, the first mate to the idiot before me left. The door shut behind them and I sighed, blinking my eyes and shaking my head. _Sparrow is so simple it’ll be so easy_ , I thought. _Perhaps a few drops of poison in his rum, maybe. Or, no--- better yet I’ll just let his first mate decide what to do with him. It’s his captain after all and his idea to get rid of him._


	3. Chapter 3

_Ye’re not like any miss I’ve e’er been around, but damn, do I admire that mouth of yours. In the regards to me captain, shall we proclaim the thought of mutiny? It’d be quaint, methinks. To maroon his narrow little mind on an island seems only fitting. He lives on an island on his own after all, so what better setting than to allow him to fall into madness. Still, I’d like to hear what me lady thinks. Unless of course, ye’d like to have me over. B_.

I swear--- men only think about one thing, and what else could it be besides the warmth of a woman?

Still, in my utter fascination, there was something about this man that I wanted. I wanted to ruin him, to stain him, to turn him into my own little mate; there was such a dreariness about most men I came across, but this one, oh, he was sin on legs. Older, yes, but that was the way I preferred them. I cared not for little boys who pretended to be men, and I loathed how they acted; it was almost as if the world didn’t have enough of their kind, flitting about their minds in their groins. Gruesome really if not true.

But another person knocked and I hoped it wouldn’t be Carren, and to my thanks, it wasn’t. It was both Alexander and Chretien who came to my door. They entered and as the hour was approaching, they started to pass me my coat; one of them sheathed my sword and placed it around my waist, while the other gathered my sash. Both were equally loyal and my favorites aboard, and in this regard, they were better than most I knew.

“Barbossa’s preparing to leave, Captain,” Chretien said. “He wants you on-deck when we leave so you can observe the lighting of the lantern. He says he’ll swing it back and forth twice, then we’ll be on the way to the Isle de Muerta.”

Chretien’s breath shuddered as he finished speaking. I wondered if he was afraid. He surely did not look it, but deep in his child-like features, he seemed concerned. He was a boy of newfound fifteen after all, and Alexander, his brother, was only a year older. Alexander was not the sharpest knife in the scabbard, but he would do; if anything, Chretien acted most like me in the regards of bravery and wit.

“Very well,” I answered. “Oh and Alexander, can you bring me my quill and ink please, along with a piece of paper? I’ll be needing it for the correspondence letter back.”

He nodded and then both Chretien and I walked outside. The weather was ghastly as the sufferable Sparrow said, but I found them strangely beautiful in a sort of way. The moon was peaked high and the salt of the sea was strong. The torches burned in their slots and with the wind being as faint as it was, I found it easier to write on the rail in front of me. Alexander brought out my stationary and I immediately began to write, though not before glancing at the two boys to leave me in peace.

The two walked down the steps and started to set the rigging. The men started to prepare the ship for hurricane conditions if need be, and adjusted the sails to be at the maximum weight and length. I, on the other hand, bit my lip slightly without showing my teeth; I grazed the flesh so hard I drew blood.

_Honestly, sir, you write like a juvenile. I could picture a thousand scenarios of me ending you, and you’d still be pleased. I wouldn’t be so quick to judge a woman based on what she appears to be. And yes, maybe later on, I will once again welcome you into my cabin for a private audience. But that will depend on the manner of your intentions. Does your dim-witted captain suspect? Does he know how to anticipate mutiny, or is he too occupied with being carelessly absent-minded with his quirks? I don’t know, but I expect this ought to be intriguing nevertheless._

_When we reach the Isle de Muerta, you will show me the chest of Cortes and bring me one step closer to what I’ve been looking for. I will take no refusal. You can join me in my bed if you wish, but I won’t allow you to stop me._

_I won’t endanger their lives any further. I have souls aboard I care about very much, and if anything were to happen to them, not even the King of England would be able to pardon me for what I’ll do to those who’ll do them harm. Write back if you have boons left. Other than that, correspond with me only when need be and stay out of my way. Yours in all things, Michelina_.

It was a letter that would suffice, and whether he would acknowledge the meaning behind the words, I had no idea. I called out for Carren to come up and when he did, I put the letter into his hand and kept an eye out. I took out my telescope and switched it out, looking through the glass. I observed the deck of the Black Pearl and saw Barbossa standing at the helm, looking out across the way, biting an apple.

“Bastard,” I whispered.

“Sorry, Captain?”

I looked at Carren and said, “Deliver that to Barbossa, and only him, alright? Don’t let that letter fall into the wrong hands. Go.”

He scattered down the steps and towards the plank lowered; the ship rocked and nearly made him fall, but thankfully, he was able enough to catch his balance. He scurried over towards the Pearl and walked aboard. The waves were churning now, faster, darker. Waves were becoming more vicious by the mere second. There must have been a storm steadfast approaching, for the scent was alluring.

My eyes followed Carren’s moves and when I saw him move towards the Pearl, he gave it to Barbossa. I opened out my telescope again and watched, closely, intently. He snatched it from Carren and sent the boy off. He unraveled the scroll and started to read it. He seemed angry at first, then he shook his head and faced my direction. My brown eyes caught sight of his winded blues, and I saw it there. His lust was there. It was fleeting, the feeling I had over him. It was beautiful and I could feel his hunger.

\--

We set sail from Tortuga shortly as the moon returned to its peak.

The skies were still darkened, were still bleak, but the waters seemed more than adequate to provide us with a passage to the open sea. The ships sailed in due course down the crowded banks and later on, each ship had the ability to “breathe,” so to speak. The Black Pearl sailed to the left, the Red Sophronia to the right. Carren had apparently been allowed to stay aboard the Pearl, and I found it opportune.

He could be my little spy. He could carry correspondence between Barbossa and myself, and as long as he didn’t allow Sparrow to find the notes, our plans of combined thought wouldn’t be exposed. And what a game it was to be. It would to be the hunter hunting the prey, with the prey dwindling in his own little mind. I smiled at the possibilities.

We started coming up towards the openness of the vast body of water. Nothing for miles but swift, churning waves that rocked here, there, or wherever it generally chose to dwell. The few new deckhands I had started to vomit. I guess they hadn’t gotten their sea legs yet, and for that, I groaned. I had had the deck recently mopped, and now, it’d have to be cleaned again.

\--

The conditions of the ocean had stilled and the ships both sat alongside each other. It’d been Sparrow’s idea to tie a bridge momentarily between ships, allowing easy access to either deck. I had objected to it in my mind but verbally I had no choice but to agree. Carren returned easily enough with a new scroll.

He placed it in my hand as he breathlessly approached. He smelled of spoiled rum, of festering stenches used for what must have been food aboard the Black Pearl. I almost fathomed to inhale but I did nonetheless. My fingertips took the paper and unfolded it as I stood beside a deck lamp. The lighting was almost poorly but I was able to read the nearly blotted smears of the black ink.

 _Everything comes in due course, I assure ye. He suspects nothin’. He’s simple as a plank floating on water. But, I suppose I should show ye me gratitude for your feminine cunning. It’s not everyday that I meet such a ruthless lass. It’s been an unaccustomed blessin’, but with yer leave, I hope I can prove it. Allow me to meet ye in the early hours between midnight and the hour one. There’s something else I must discuss with ye as well. B_.

I was about to protest and scoff aloud, but he was already standing in front of me only a few steps away. He frightened me from the mere draw of showing up uninvited. My pistols were suddenly drawn and the paper flew down to my feet. I pulled back the flintlocks. I had prepared these pistols earlier before and knew that they couldn’t go wrong. My muscles were locked and were growing weary by the second.

“I reckon ye’re a bit daft,” he said, his teeth grotesque, though his grin growing crooked to the side. “How is it that a maid comes to be sailing a ship of this magnitude, and still hasn’t the mindset to hear a single creak?”

My womb almost dropped and so did my heart. I wasn’t usually one to be alerted like that, but he had become an exception. His humor was dry. It was a brave attempt, but I knew that I could do better.

I lowered my flintlocks. “My cabin now.”

\--

His lips found a green apple. His teeth bit through the flesh of it and the juices slipped down his beard, down the whiskers he held as well. He slurped in the juices and I heard it crunching. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“Must you eat like a slobbering child? It’s annoying me, same for the taxing wait. If you were going to mutiny against your captain, why not do it already?”

“Because,” he said, chewing between words. “I’ve not settled matters with ye yet. Now, take off those blasted bandages. Surely yer brassiere is aching to be released. And besides, we have matters to discuss.”

I looked over my shoulder and stared. “Are you joking?”

“No, my French lamb, I couldn’t joke even if I tried. Now won’t ye give me a chance?”

 


	4. Chapter 4

His hand was upon my shoulder and then slowly, he started to push the wrappings down from the side of my breast. The tips upon his fingers slid against my flesh, the nails withered, unhealthy. True, he was much older, but he was agile, he was fierce and handsome with large facial features. His lips were prompt, his nose large, his eyes stern and blue. He was drawing closer with every inch and I sensed that something was different. His scents were different. I now smelled essence of musk. I was impressed to say the least.

“What’s wrong, lass? Ye seem quiet.”

I didn’t reply.

I curled into him then and felt how his mouth found my neck. His teeth grazed the vein beneath my flesh, his tongue licking. I shuddered and shivered like a child caught in the rain. My arms went around his back and there, I held my hand flat whilst the other travelled.

“What are ye doin’ now?”

As Barbossa pressed me up against the wall of my cabin, I grunted and unsheathed the dagger from within his waistband. He felt it and thus broke his mouth away from my throat. Our eyes locked as his mouth was only an inch from mine.

“Stealing your little blade,” I said, smiling dark. “Are you trying to compensate for something, sir?”

“Nay, but the only thing ye’ll be missin’ is your mouth once I cut those lips off.”

I kneed him in the groin and unsheathed my sword. I swept my leg around and kicked him down, my ankle hitting the side of his chest. I winded him well. He fell to the floor and let loose muddled outcries of derelict pain. The table fell over and the bushel of apples went rolling. I started to laugh in a feminine tone, in a soft, yet rich tone. The sound of cursing entered my ears and I recognized it as child’s play.

I knelt upon him and kept my knee upon his sternum. He croaked and wheezed. I was about to finish him, but as something tapped against my cabin window, I looked upward and saw someone’s face peering in through the glass. With a rough, calloused kind of bite, my lip began to bleed as I growled. It was a man’s face, but not one that I recognized. It occurred to me then: _he’s one of Sparrow’s_.

\--

“Who is he!”

Barbossa’s throat was tightened in my hand. He was grasping my wrists, gasping for breath, but as furious as I was, I would obviously have to let him speak. I threw him back and he tumbled against my bed. He fell back onto it with the cushions breaking his fall. He caught me then with his legs and wrapped them around my waist. I collapsed beneath him within a second.

“Who in the bloody hell are ye talkin’ about?”

I struck him. “The bastard standing outside my window while you were trying to seduce me!”

His hands found my wrists then and he pressed his full weight atop of me. His pelvis crushed against my mound and his own hand found my bandages. One by one, the flimsy cloth was being torn from my chest. In the dampness of my cabin, the salty air entered through the other opened window and touched my breasts. To my general disgust, he eyed me. He saw the expression I had and saw the opportunity.

His mouth claimed mine. “Perhaps a general description would be nice?”

“Long face, nose like yours but smaller, more pointed, prudent eyes and a sulking look.”

“Aye. That be Bootstrap Bill Turner--- harmless bloke, really.”

In turn I started to kiss him in return. I bit his bottom so hard that blood was drawn. I could taste it. It was potent, so keen, aged to perfection; my breath mingled with his. So badly I wanted to kill him. Each one of my fingernails raked against his flesh. Marks of red combined with the pearl-white of my nails and I smiled in utter valor. But he wanted to hurt me as I wanted to hurt him. By rights, it was beautiful.

The fabric of his shirt tore and fell to the cushions of the bed. His appendage grew in size against my covered mound, but that didn’t stop him from gyrating his hips against mine. But it at the back of my mind. That man’s face was still there. He must be a scout, I thought. He must be spying for Sparrow. If that is the case, then I can’t afford to let anything else occur.

Softly yet viciously, I said, “Get off me, lover. We have work to do.”

\--

I bandaged myself and took the time to put on a new shirt. I wouldn’t have myself be exposed for the likes of any man, and nevertheless, I wouldn’t wish to inspire predatory thoughts though I was quite capable of looking after myself. But I was so furious that I wanted to scream and slash something open.

Together, Barbossa and I walked onto the deck of the Pearl. He trailed behind me with his hand on his sword, almost like an honorary bodyguard. The deckhands watched in silence but I still kept trying to find the one I’d seen earlier. This lot though seemed older, the other half young and with no features similar to the ones I’d seen. My eyes saw the stairs and at the top, Sparrow was at the helm of his ship.

“Captain Sparrow,” I said, my voice loud, stern. “We need to have a private audience.”

He nearly dropped his telescope because apparently my voice had distilled fear. His eyes bulged and he cocked his head to face me. “Ah, welcome aboard the Pearl, lass. Would you like a tour?”

“No. I want a private audience with just you and your first mate. There’s something I’d like to bring up.”

Sparrow arched a brow and twisted the side of his black mustache. “I know exactly what you mean, love.”

Barbossa walked passed me and opened the door to the cabin. Together we walked inside and I took a seat at the table. It was an intricate little design, full of black obviously and streaks of mahogany. The windows to the back of the ship were dirty, and thus, nothing could be seen through them unless they were cleaned. Sparrow walked in too and shut the door.

“Now, what is the pleasure of your carbuncle?”

It was only too easy.

I leaned back and kept my arms on the arms, gripping them, digging my nails into the wood. I flexed my hips side to side and kept eye contact. He seemed to be buying into it and so, I figured now would be my chance. As Sparrow salivated, I kept a disgusted and amused smirk upon my face for the great facade.

“One of your deckhands was aboard my ship unknowingly, Captain,” I said, explaining. “I want to know who it is and why he was there. He has no right to be aboard my ship without my explicit permission.”

“Why do you think it’s one of me men?”

“Because, you ignorant _bâtard_ , he wasn’t one of mine. I’ve never seen him before and as he dropped eaves on my conversation with Barbossa, he looked a little precarious. _That deserves an explanation_.”

Tension was filling the room certainly between Sparrow and myself. It seemed damp and thick all at the same time, the air did. Coldly I continued to stare with intent. He brushed it off as perhaps a ‘woman’s sense of advancement for lies’ but I was too intelligent for that. My fingers now laced together and went red. My knuckles flashed white as another result.

Now Sparrow thought it fit to question me.

Pointing towards Barbossa, he said laughing, “Why do you think it opportune to keep borrowing me first mate then, if you don’t like anyone from the Pearl aboard the Sophronia? You two havin’ it out?”

I stood then, went to lunge, but Barbossa’s arms found my waist. He wrapped them around me and started to pull me out of the cabin. With all my strength, I viciously clawed as if I were a ravenous animal. A feral animal who would neither be judged or ignored. Whispers and murmurs followed though I cared not. I saw my own crew staring from across the way. Their faces alone seemed quiet.

  
\--

“That was utterly stupid of ye! He could’ve smelled us.”

Tears. For the first time in a long while, my throat was seizing up. I myself began to wheeze, began to cough and hunch over. I threw my hand to my breast and tried ripping the bandages but to no avail. I fell against the table and caught my balance before it was broken by a fall. The sound of objects rolling and hitting the floor echoed loud off of the cabin walls.

He rushed me then and tried to hold me upright. I felt like I was suffocating for some reason unseen, but my eyes were closed. I could hear but could not see. Blackness came over me and my ribs began to hurt badly. Pain reverberated and sharp pinpricks seemed to signal all throughout my chest area.

“What---? Oh, damn!”

He unsheathed his dagger and drew the blade under the straps, whereas he cut downward. One by one the scraps of bandage fell to the floor. I coughed again and gasped. My abdomen was able to move more freely now and I was utterly grateful. He’d let air back into my lungs and now, my eyes flashed open.

I clasped his arms around my breasts and flat-handed, placed his palms over my nipples. He concealed me and kept me hidden. The warmth of his breath made me shudder with anticipation of his actions.

“No quarter,” I sighed.

“What do ye mean?”

“This.”

I turned and planted my mouth against his. I moved my hand down towards his shirts and ripped them open. Eagerly, darkly, his tongue brushed against mine. The taste of rum and those green apples were prominent and true. I could smell his sweat on his brow and feel the warmth of his body against mine.

I wrapped a hand behind his neck and kept the other around his own rib. Hungrily, I removed my mouth from his and placed my teeth at his earlobe. I growled as any woman would, but I was not yet prepared. I wanted him to take me properly. I didn’t want any distractions, any disturbances. Only privacy would do. He stilled against me and cupped my breasts. For a reward, I gave him distinguished moans.

But, between licks and lunges, I discerned a few words. “ _I want Turner dead_.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some physical relations, but nothing more than a smutty sex scene at the end of this chapter between two of-age, consenting adults. She's twenty and he's fifty-five. It says on his "Pirates" wiki page that he was born in the late 1660's, but I'm going to have him be born around 1664, so I have an idea of how to place his age. 
> 
> This fanfiction takes place in the year 1719, because ten years later, it says in the late 1720's that was when he and Jack fought at the Isle de Muerta and that was around the approximate decade in which he died. So, in my vision, he would've been shot by Jack in 1729.
> 
> Don't yell at me, please. I'm just trying to figure these things out as I go along.

I was thrown onto the bed from halfway across the room. However, it hadn’t just been a mere push or shove. No, he had backhanded me in the instance as well. My own blood welled to the surface of my lip. _Sweet sanguine_ , I thought. _It’s a shame that violence has to be incited all the time for it to be spilled; can’t pleasure be mixed with brutality once in a while?_

“For what purpose would Turner’s death be to ye? He’s simple enough as it is. Ye don’t need to assert yer dominance any further. We’ll be leavin’ for the Isle again in a few. The tide’s starting to churn and the winds be favorable. Enough of this talk, missy. Ye’re too beautiful to be hanged by yer own crew.”

“Coward,” I smiled.

The winds swept through the windows again, and I could still smell his blood from where I’d bitten his lip earlier before. It carried on the breeze towards me and the smell became saintly. The light of the candles flickered too, and upon his face, cast cruel-looking shadows. His beard seemed shaded. His lips dripped in crimson. _You are my little pet and you don’t even realize it yet_.

\--

“Even if ye could get away with it, especially with a mutiny approachin’, how would ye dispose of him?”

I wrapped his arms around my waist and kept them there. He was holding onto me as we stood on the deck, watching the crew scatter about. Upon hearing his question, I merely laughed.

“A cannon.”

“You mean to stand ‘im in front of one?” The look of horror was rank upon his face as his words died.

“No, beloved. I merely suggest that you tie them to his bootstraps and throw him overboard.”

Yes, it would be adequate enough. With the weight of the water and the deep, dark ocean to crush him, to shrink his body and pressure his bones, there’d be nothing left of him. He would become grizzle for the sharks and sustenance for the other creatures. It’d be perfect. With him gone, Sparrow wouldn’t have an opportune spy. I smiled and pulled one of his hands up, pressing it to my lips, lips that were still bloody.

“Captain? We’re set to follow the Pearl,” a mate shouted.

I looked down and saw it to be Chretien. Both of his eyes were alert, solemn and calm. He pointed towards the black ship with a bony finger. My eyes followed the direction and I felt a kind of drawn serenity with it. Both Chretien and Alexander watched me then and looked for a suitable command. I smiled briefly at them and nodded once.

“Steady as she goes!”

I walked over towards the helm and took two knobs in hand. I started to turn towards port, and when the winds started to blow favorably against the canvas, the ship herself was reeling towards open water. The smell of salt entered my nostrils. The sound of the rigging creaking in my ears was music. Barbossa came to stand beside me as well, but not before the two first mates came up the flight of stairs.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Captain,” the eldest boy said, his hands clasped together briefly. “Do we have a heading?”

“Aye,” Barbossa interjected. “We go east. Ye’ll be needin’ to follow the constellation Taurus’ lowest star; it’ll point ye in the right direction. We follow that for a fair few miles, then we’ll be shiftin’ past the likes of the Caribbean’s most loathsome waters.”

I kicked his ankle with my foot and without blinking, without turning my head, stared straight on. He was about to roar at me when suddenly he looked to where I nodded. “Your captain’s calling you, Barbossa. Best not dawdle. He seems undeniably bored without you there to torment,” I teased.

I’d taken the liberty of sailing up against the Pearl, whereas he grabbed onto a rope and swung back over. I could tell as he landed on his feet, his eyes were yellow with their content on having the mutiny performed as soon as possible.

\--

We sailed for miles and miles, just until the skies cleared and the midnight was upon us. Throughout all the stars there up above, I spied the Taurus. Its surface gleamed brightly and appeared almost like an arrowhead, pointing downward. The winds however, began to change their course entirely. The canvas was brushed against the ropes and the creaks of the pulleys were rusted. Both my eyes looked west.

On the horizon, there were clouds, darker than the soot, forming, brushing against the currents and making their way towards us. The crew started to murmur and one’s hat flew off into the high winds. This could have only meant one thing: a hurricane or a violent-like storm was coming. My knuckles gripped the wooden knobs even harder and my throat clenched tight. My voice was nowhere to be heard.

Carren screamed. “Hurricane’s comin’! Secure the lines, the canvas and the rigging!”

One violent jolt came then and all of us, including myself, were knocked off our feet. My knees hit the floor and splinters made their way through my trousers and into my flesh. Waves started to churn violently and I tried making my way upward. My hand grabbed one knob and tried to regain my balance.

“Captain!”

 _So many faces and too many names to remember. So many drops of rain falling and too much wind to fight; I can’t see anything and everything is blurring_. As I stood to my feet, I saw my crew running back and forth, up and down the rope to secure the ship. I coughed and felt something else in my body. It was sharp, it was painful. I put my hand down to where I felt the coldness coming from, and as I rose my hand to my face, I realized what the warmth was. It was blood: it was my blood and it’d been released.

My dagger. I’d fallen on my dagger and it buried itself in my side. The storm was finally upon us and once again, I was knocked down; I made sure not to land on my wounded side, and with one pull, I removed my dagger from my body. I screamed loudly once and then grunted, gritting my teeth together in an attempt to repress my cursing.

“Captain!” another mate said. “Captain! _Michelina, no!_ ”

My eyes were half-shut. My hair was sticking to my face and I could barely see anything. All I could hear was the roar of the thunder, the crushing of waves, and the screams of my men. Where I lay, blood flowed out. I was prepared to pass out, but then I heard him coming. His footsteps echoed on the greying wood.

“Get out of me way! Brace for impact, ye cack-handed deck apes!”

I felt him pull me into his arm and with the other, I could feel that he was steering the Red Sophronia through this hellish mess.

\--

“Michelina, ye’ve not been tellin’ me the whole truth. Wake up.”

I cracked my eyes open and saw him sitting beside my bed on a flimsy stool. His arms were crossed and he was still soaked; I could feel the wetness without even touching his clothes. I went to sit up and found myself unable to. The bandages were reapplied and new ones were placed over where my wound was cauterized.

“What do you want, Hector?”

“For starters, yer whole story. Why didn’t ye tell me that yer first mates were actually yer brothers? And tell me, why are ye so damnably curious to be findin’ the Isle?”

I couldn’t be still any further. He’d mentioned them and without a single moment’s worth of hesitation, I withdrew my two flintlock pistols again and pointed them at him. I kicked myself up from my bed and pointed one at his heart, the other at his throat. My lips began to quiver regardless of the pain I was feeling.

“Don’t tell me that they’re dead,” I panicked. “ _Tell me they’re not dead!_ ”

If they were gone, I’d have nothing and no one. I found my hands shaking, found my heart and mind racing with utter propulsion of woe. He looked me in the eye and shook his head. He stood up then and came closer to me, face to face.

“They’re not but a few of yer crew is. I reckon ye’ve lost six souls.”

I gasped and laughed at the same time, my eyes swelling with tears. I was so relieved to hear that they were still here. I cared not about the six I'd supposedly lost. I weakly put down my flintlocks on the side table and swiftly threw my arms around his neck. Neither one of us knew where the compulsion came from, but now I was indebted to him. It was awkward but we both suffered through it enough.

“You saved my brothers,” I sighed, a few tears flowing. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

“Don’t expect any favors, missy. I only did what needed to be done, ‘cause clearly ye ne’er been through a small hurricane like that. Besides, do I have to remind ye of our bargain?”

I looked him again in the eye and kept my mouth an inch or two away from his own. His beard brushed against my chin and with one hand, I saw the deviousness in his irises. He had something in mind, but I didn’t have to ask him. He wanted me, and I wanted him.

“No reminder needed.”

I threw my arms around his back then and enclosed him. My lips found his and though the stench of the rum entered my nostrils, I braved it. The taste of the green apple was on my mouth and thus, he was careful enough as he threw me down half-rough onto my bed, ripping my clothes and bandages all the same.

\--

He was on top of me and as the ship rocked upon the freshly-calmed waters, his pelvis crushed mine. I could feel him through the fabric of his trousers, and as he tore at my own pair, his calloused hands brushed against my skin. He was neither rough nor gentle, but somewhere in between. I caught his lips again with my own and held him close. Before I knew what else to expect, my whole lower half was exposed and my mound showing. He took the time to look me over and as my heart raced, he observed.

“Ye’re a maid after all,” he mocked.

“Only in this regard,” I said, my voice devoid of selfness. “You’d be my first in the literal sense.”

He grew confused for a moment but then understood what I meant. It was not so uncommon for a girl to be taken like a boy is by another man; I’d suffered it at age thirteen and fourteen. None of them would dare stick me with their members, for fear I’d give them a child. He almost stopped touching me but I sat up and pulled him in closer.

“I’m not a child anymore, and nor do I fear the pain. I’ve already felt it a thousandfold, so do with me what you will.”

“Ye’re so innocent, aren’t ye?”

I tore his shirts apart and exposed his chest, where I kissed each inch of flesh exposed. The small curls of hair did not bother me, and the scent of his sweat was rather clean. His hands found his trousers and within a half minute, he spent his time returning my kisses roughly, and he unsheathed his member. I crushed my body against his and he guided my legs to either side of his. I felt him rise against my cleft.

He made to put his tip against my entrance and I returned my arms to wrap around his neck. His mouth found my throat and with half-rough, meddling mauls and bites, he whispered, “It’ll hurt ye for a moment.”

I was about to say something but he pushed into me. The pain was intense but somewhat bearable. He gripped my hips and started to move and back forth within me, his nails digging into my flesh. I threw my head back and gasped for air, whereas he pushed me against the headboard and began to pick up his pace. All I felt between my legs was his length, the size of it, the monstrous thickness.

He delved into me and started to kiss me once more, to ease my pain. I started to mewl at his touch and when he pumped me, my eyes started to tear and my flesh became riddled with pleasure. The deeper he went, the harder he angled his hips. He was mindful of my wound always and never once grabbed near the area where it hurt. My own hips were aching, but then I could feel something building inside myself.

“Hector,” I gasped, breathless and lightheaded. “I’m seeing stars…”

He growled against my ear and bit it. Blood welled to the surface and I nearly screamed. His voice carried into my head, saying, “Of course, why wouldn’t ye. Now, little wench, tell me how badly you need me."


	6. Chapter 6

I lay on my good side and stared at him.

He was sleeping rather loudly, his snores entering my ears as he lay there flat on his back. No matter the amount of pillows propped underneath his head, his volume was horrid. But I was curious. Curious about the Pearl, about Turner and how Hector came to know my brothers. This hurricane had everyone’s mind set in a different place, but mine was undoubtedly content. Quietly, I reached underneath my head.

I removed a spare and inexpensive flintlock pistol from beneath my pillow and slid my hand between us. The side of my hand was at the touch of his lithe, long upper arm, and with the flintlock now prepared, I clicked it back and allowed its sudden noise to wake him. He cracked one eye open and scoffed with a closed grin.

“What are ye doin’ now, missy?”

I curled into him and watched as he turned onto his side. The tip of the pistol was now under his chin, and if at any given time he would try to remove it, I’d fire. But tenderly, with a smile upon my pale face, I whispered at his lips.

“How did you know that Alexander and Chretien were my brothers?”

One of his hands slid upon my hip. “Because I’m not as naive as ye think. I could tell by the way ye wrote of yer first mates, and by the way you looked at those boys with a sisterly love. I could tell alright. Besides, with their features, there’s no mistakin’ who their sister be.”

I threw him onto his back and put the flintlock down.

My lips found his and with a gentle, then roughly bite, I drew blood once more. He groaned and gripped my arms. There hadn’t been much blood in our passion last night, and what frightened and surprised me was that he complimented me, saying how brave I had been. But what did he know? When did he know when to put on a facade to engage the enemy, to make them believe that they held no power over one’s self?

I shuddered and knelt upright on my bed. I covered my breasts and looked down at him, my eyes watching, waiting. Hector sat up too and took me by the throat and pushed me further for information.

“Tell me why you want to go to the Isle so badly,” he said, quizzically.

I shed one tear and felt it fall. “Because… I’m afraid of losing them. I’m afraid that they’ll die before they’ve even had the chance to live, and because if they die,” I said, lingering with the intent to grab my pistol again, “I will murder everyone on this earth, including you and myself if any harm befalls them. That is why I want to go to the Isle de Muerta, Hector Barbossa, and neither you, the crown, God or Old Hob can stop me.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, missy, but we must all meet the grave somehow.”

\--

My hands found his throat but as he threw me off onto the floor, crushing my body with his, the sound of knocking in a persistent rhythm came at my door. It was rapid and quite annoying to say the least. When the sun peaked through my curtained window, it struck a line across his face and I was able to get up.

My knee had found his hip and when I rolled away, I fetched my trousers, threw them on along with my blouse and my coat; I didn’t care for my boots at the time and I went to the door, thrusting it open. I found myself in a state of disarray, but did not care.

“What is it---”

Both of my eyes went wide when I saw who it was standing there, tall and lanky.

Turner faced me and looked me up and down. “Captain Sparrow will be wanting his first mate back.”

The knuckles in my hand turned white, violently so. This was the same black-heart who stared into my mirror in the first place. He was the one whose blood needed to be spilled. At my behest, I silenced myself and scoffed, shaking my head momentarily. Already, I could tell that there was a bad vibration between myself and Turner; he seemed the loyalist type to his captain and for that, I commended him but loathed him all the same.

My hand encased the wound on my hip. I could feel the sensation of blood welling but not to the surface. Had I rolled too hard? Had I caused the wound to reopen? Damned if I knew, but in the light of the moment, I was not about to show weakness in front of Turner.

“Tell your precious captain to come to the Sophronia and get him if he’s so damn eager.”

With that, I shut the door hard. I began to dress in the meantime and finished rather quickly. Bandages could wait till later; for now, I buttoned my vest up tightly so my brassiere would not show or escape.

I looked to Hector and pulled him in his naked stance to his feet. “Get dressed. Your captain will be coming soon,” I said, whispering between kisses, “and I assume that’s when we’ll begin our descent into the realm of mutiny.”

One hand clasped the back of my neck and he reeled me in closer. “With great pleasure.”

\--

The Isle de Muerta was covered in long, lithesome patches of thick grey fog all around. The island itself was massive, huge and with heavy-looking terrain. The waters that sat against its shores were black. In my studies of the various myths and legends, it was known in the general language to be named the “Island of the Dead,” and by the Spanish nonetheless. Those cunning bastards--- to my great regret, I believed that they’d already been there or else the name wouldn’t have been given in such a crude manner. My men were deathly quiet. The Pearl was not far away, and when she caught up to us, we attached ropes to either side of both ships and their railings. It was made for a suitable, fast-made bridge to cross back and forth upon. Sparrow and Turner both came onto the Sophronia and I gritted my teeth, though never allowing my jaw to move.

“Lovely mornin’, isn’t it?” Sparrow jested.

I loathed him entirely. If there was one thing I hated most in this world, it was a falsified, vainglorious little weasel who believed he was the best damn thing who ever drifted the Caribbean’s waters. I had to laugh internally, because when he approached me, he threw an arm around my shoulders and laughed.

“Do unhand me, Sparrow.”

“Oh, sorry. It’s just--- I hope I haven’t intruded on your lady’s time of the month,” he said, flinching a little as I cocked my head quick and hard. “It’s just that I heard it’s a messy business and like me dad used to say, one should never trust something that bleeds for five days and doesn’t die thereafter.”

He rolled his eyes to look away and he whistled, nervously.

“Well, I suppose Captain Teague does sound like an intelligent man,” I replied. “It’s a shame you couldn’t have learned from the best.”

He stilled. “What’s that supposed to me---”

I kicked Sparrow in the groin and watched him flail. “NOW!”

He landed on Turner, who’d broken his fall, and when I had Carren and Alexander hold him up, Chretien went for Turner and held his arms behind his back.

“Oi, oi! What’s this?” Sparrow interjected. “Did I forget to bring the rum?”

Hector walked up beside me and unsheathed his sword. He pointed it at Sparrow’s Adam’s apple, which bobbed up and down nervously in his throat. I saw his vein pulsing and knew immediately he was filled with fear, with fright. _Nick it, Hector darling_ , I thought. _Nick it and watch his blood flow red into those waters_.

But Hector’s head shifted side to side. “Jack,” he mock-laughed. “Jack, don’t ye understand? This be a mutiny and ye’re the prime candidate.”

Sparrow only muttered thus. “ _Bugger_.”

\--

“Barbossa, you can’t do this! He’s our captain, not some washed-up runt,” Turner protested.

“Don’t ye dare tell me where to put my allegiances! I’ll not hear it from the likes of you, Master Turner!”

Of course, there was always something said by the heroic sort. There always had to be one to make a case and say that the person in question was a good man no matter what. I never believed the sort at all.

“And why don’t you tell your captain what you heard, Mr. Turner?” I accompanied.

He hesitated. His eyes never found mine but the flooring. I stomped my foot and Chretien took out a knife at my behest. The sharpness found Turner’s throat, but my baby brother did not cut. Instead, the cold and sharp iron sat there.

“What?” Sparrow said. “What’s this then?”

Turner grunted and made no effort to escape Chretien’s hold. “I heard them planning the mutiny, Jack. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

“And so,” I gleamed. “You’ve made yourself guilty, haven’t you? Well, there’s only one suitable way to take care of eavesdroppers aboard my ship. Alexander, Chretien, escort Mr. Turner here to the deck and tie a cannon to his bootstraps. At my signal, you’re to throw him overboard.”

Two heads shook in my presence and I found it all the more worth my while. Alexander and Carren stood Sparrow up and Chretien kneed Turner in the abdomen. He fell to the floor and was tied immediately behind his back, his wrists and feet bound tightly.

“Oi, can’t we come to some arrangement? I’ve only got twelve years---”

“Yes, Sparrow, aren’t we all pressed for a little time? Take Turner down to the deck and tie the cannon to his bootstraps now, boys!”


	7. Chapter 7

The scent of oil-soaked rope was a fine touch.

One by one, the crew took their time in wrapping it around Turner, and securing it tightly to the straps of his boots. It was a charcoal-grey cannon, weighing a thousand at the very minimum. He choked as a mate threw a derelict punch into his abdomen. Sparrow was watching from the crow’s nest where he was secured and bound, trussed up like a hog.

My lips were pulled back in a closed grin. Alexander and Chretien were behind me as well as was Hector. He came up to stand beside me and when the surfs of the waves became rougher, I knew then it was time. Gulls cried overhead but faintly. I nodded once and Turner was hauled to his feet.

I growled lightly then with a calmed demeanor. “I’ll allow you a final word, Turner. Make it good.”

He spat at my feet with resistance. “Tell Jack I’m sorry. Tell my son, Will, if someone sees him that he gets the parcel in my cot aboard the Pearl; it’s a small box with a flimsy thin string ‘round it. It’s important that he gets it.”

I tapped my sword’s hilt with a single finger. “Anything else?”

Those clammy eyes found mine. His irises were dry-like, his lids grey. With a single blink, he shuddered and swallowed hard; the ball in his throat rose high and sunk lowly.

“Yes,” he croaked. “I hope that whatever God is out there takes mercy on you, for after this, I don’t think you’re gonna be shown any. May your brothers know the monstress that you are.”

I took it upon myself then to grab him by the neck, whereas I pushed him towards the side of the ship. An open space was provided as was the drop into the waters; I made sure we were over the deepest depth of the ocean. It was nothing but the darkest of blue waters around us, with the shadow and shades growing black upon and below its surfaces. Not even a sapphire held a gleam to it. It was ominous to say the least, but I knew I’d be performing Jones a favor. I unsheathed my sword and held the tip at his back, nudging.

“Go towards the edge!”

He did as he was told and when I turned my head, I gave the order without a sound. Two of the strongest men aboard came running, and when they lowered themselves towards the height of the cannon, I stepped aside and they pushed with all their might. Turner’s mouth dropped open and he could scarcely hold a breath. The water drowned him first, then the cannon. The ripples became violent for a moment, and then, he was gone.

Hector and I walked towards the edge ourselves and we both leaned against the rails. The ripples were starting to go away slowly, and when I looked up towards Sparrow, my lips revealed my smile.

“He sends his apologies, Sparrow!” I shouted.  
He discerned two words as he wriggled beneath his roped prison. “Evil wench!”

\--

“To my lady avenger,” said Hector. “For without ye, me plans would ne’er have come to fruition.”

He clanged his cup against mine and eagerly, both half-drunk already, we swallowed the bitter rum. It burned my throat and singed my tongue, leaving its cinnamon taste on my tip. Hector lay his head against my breast and as I sat upon his lap, he pulled me closer. Everyone of the crew looked at us, but I cared not. They were bellowing songs, ripping apart meat off the bone and drinking their own tainted rum.

My arms laced around Hector’s neck and I watched from the top deck as Sparrow was being fed by a crew mate. He was forced rum, forced the meat, and though he was disgruntled when it was shoved into his mouth, he took it nonetheless. He must’ve realized only a fool would refuse sustenance while tied to the crow’s nest. The winds swept us through the open ocean and on blackness. The moon was hiding well.

“Now,” I said, addressing my older accomplice, “I wonder, what is it you intend to do with your captain?”

As if I needed to ask. He blurted, “I’ll be maroonin’ him on an island soon. There’s one I hear tell that’s a bargained pass with some traders. He’ll be nothin’ but sordid meat for the gulls and sea creatures to come.”

“Sounds good to me.”

I leaned forward and kissed him right then and there, curling my fingers into his scraggly beard.

\--

He put his finger towards the direction of the island. The fog was growing thicker and the currents were moving faster once again.

“We should be gettin’ along. It’s fifty miles of open water to there and with an impendin’ hurricane a-comin’, I won’t be riskin’ the stability of the Pearl. We’ll bunker down in one of the secluded coves.”

My cunning was coming to light. I cocked my head to the side with a single nod, and with a closed smile, kept my eyes on Hector as he started to make his way towards the steps. He walked down the flight and I spied an annoying little mammal, swinging directly to his shoulder. It was a Capuchin monkey, one that wore a small vest and little shirt; its black beady eyes were calculating and its shrill screech was a nuisance. It watched me from Hector’s shoulder and snarled. Perhaps it knew what I was waiting for.

\--

When both ships were anchored promptly in the cove, the winds of the hurricane came along. The trees upon the rocky shores began to sway and their branches cracked. Leaves fluttered down to the sands and scraped roughly, leaving indents. We all headed into the caves. It was a lengthy walk, one full of nooks, crevices and unseen steps that could lead to potentially broken necks. Hector was leading and with a torch in hand.

My crew followed behind and my brothers remained at my side.

Both Alexander and Chretien seemed exhausted, frightened even. I knew that their conditions wouldn’t last for much longer if things persisted. Their skins seemed cracked, dry. Their lips were paling and chapped, and when we stumbled down, Chretien, my youngest brother, almost broke his ankle. I lifted him up and used both boys to hold onto me. It would be easier to balance with three rather than one.

The light of Hector’s torch suddenly came across riplets and vast swarms of gold. There were almost colossal mountains of the coin, combined with rubies, emeralds, sapphires, pearls and treasures from different countries, like that of China, France and Spain. The men whispered about and started to scavenge through the massive hoards. The boys became eager then, and with one look, they asked permission to search. I nodded solid and let them go.

“Have at it, boys.”

\--

“Michelina, o’er here!”

I stalked my way upside the golden hill and saw where a long, rectangular box sat in the shining moon. Its body was made of gold as well, but more rusted, ancient-looking; I knew then what it must be. It was the Chest of Cortes. It was the very thing I’d been looking for for the past five years. He kicked the lid off then and revealed its innards.

I looked inside and saw the coins. Each one was made of gold of course, but were designed in Aztec form. Small skulls with gritted teeth were sitting in the middle of each coin, and when I looked closer at it, I picked one up and the moon hid at the same time. A strange coincidence I thought. Or was it on purpose? I hadn’t the idea, but when Hector wrapped his arms around my waist, biting at my neck, I smiled as each man growled and laughed and pillaged.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: There's some eye-removing involved so be warned, and while it says in Ragetti's POTC wiki page that he lost an eye in battle, this is my interpretation of said "battle," though small it may be.

“I must say, ye had me fooled,” Sparrow said. “You’re exactly the kind of fiend that I should’ve smelled.”

While Hector stood at the chest with me, his one foot on the rim, the other on the pile of gold, he carved at a green apple with an old knife made from whale bone. I smiled at Sparrow simply then began to toy with the numerous little coins. He watched me from down at the heap of gold, and I could feel the mistrust and anger. I shuffled my shoulders upward as I fashioned a response.

“Do you distrust me because I am a woman, Sparrow? Or because I helped to rid you of a useless pirate?”

Sparrow shifted to face me then, turning in his seated place. He shifted about like a girl fidgeting to be comfortable in her newly-tightened corset, which, in my opinion, was quite hysterical. 

“No, not at all do I distrust you because you’re a woman. I distrust you because even what you did to Bill Turner was lowly. I have never seen such cruelty from a female before, and if I’m frank, ye give Blackbeard and Jones a run for their coin. You’re not related to Teach, are you?”

“Of course not, Sparrow. Do you take me for a complete blackheart?”

“Depends. I hadn’t thought that ye’d have boons in places most unknown.”

I laughed mockingly then. Rising from the aura of the gold, I unsheathed my knife and started to balance it between my fingers, then upon the tip of my index. The silver gleamed in the reflected moonlight. The smell of the sea was entering through the ridges of the cave’s cove. The men had been pillaging through the treasure stored, and some had gone back to the ships, to brave the tyrannical storm to fetch the sacks of fruit and the jugs of rum. I could feel it. I could feel that the storm was shifting with a mind of its own.

 

\---

 

Alexander and Chretien were counting coins, drinking rum and sleazing on the heavy piles of gold. It was growing darker by now, and the sun was on the other side of the world. My crew were doing the same actions, and as they brought in the jugs and the animals aboard, mainly chickens and small goats, they were slaughtered. One had brought in dry wood and started to stoke a fire. While the blood ran red over the coins, I looked to Hector and pondered. Had he any idea of what I had planned? No, of course not.

An hour or two passed before the meat of the animals killed was ready. When one of the crew stabbed the goat’s leg with his sword, he held it up and shouted, “Meat’s done! Let’s feast!”

Both my crew and the men of the Black Pearl started to become rambunctious in their appetite. But few of the Pearl’s crew began to look at me differently. Their eyes were veiled and I could see that their intentions weren’t pure of heart. As if I had been blind. 

“If any coward here dare challenge me,” I said aloud, “then let him speak.”

Each and every man paused. Rum dribbled down beards and meat clamped hot in their hands. Their actions were halted by my words. I had my sword’s hilt in hand and as I had a foot upon the chest of Cortes, balancing myself, Hector watched my every move. 

“What are you gettin’ at?” a mate inquired. “You implyin’ we’re foul?”

My right brow arched. “I thought that much was obvious. Look at me in such a manner again and I’ll have your eye carved from your head. I swear I’ll do it myself if you don’t believe me. My word is solid gold.”

The tall, scrawny man that had questioned me laughed, looking at his fat, balding companion. “She’s a right bluffer, that one.”

I threw a spare sword that lay beside my other foot towards him, and there it fell towards his own feet. He jumped back a little and groveled. Hector started to laugh then and said, “He means nothin’ by it. He’s simple, I’m tellin’ ye.”

Then Sparrow spoke out too. “Ragetti, don’t be an idiot! She’ll kill you like she did Turner!”

I moved towards the lanky man and put the tip of my sword against the junction of his lithe throat. The tip was pressed against his bobbing Adam’s apple, and as he swallowed, my fingers lifted only slightly. The other men watched in silence. Pintel, his fat little counterpart, gave me a look of horror. 

“Pick up the sword,” I ordered, stepping back and allowing him space. “Now.”

He bent over and picked it up. With a shaking right hand, he quivered. “Like Barbossa said, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

I laughed. “We’ll see about that, now prove your worth with the sword.”

I stepped to the side and he did too. I lunged first and allowed my blade to meet his. He was hesitating at first to keep up, but miraculously, he began to strike. Watching him be so clumsy and graceful at the same time was truly a sight. Left to right, we moved about. I was finally growing tired of his little boring antics, and so, I swirled around once, kicked his leg out from beneath him and watched him fall. Coins scattered beneath him and with the way he landed, his right eye seemed affected. His lids were black and blue all around.

“You’re in pain,” I said. “Let me help you.”

I knelt down and pinned his chest with my knee. With my left hand, I held his forehead down as he tried to hold me off. Hector started to interject as he knew then what I was about to do.

“Let ‘im be! He’s a useless sap, yes, but there’s no need for this!”

I didn’t listen. 

My blade was already in my right hand, and with a few swipes and cuts, I buried the tip of the blade in the junction of his eye. Ragetti screamed and screamed, profusely bleeding as he thrashed. I pulled my hand back and there his right eye was on the silver coldness of my dagger.

“Bloody Hob!” Pintel cried out.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Sparrow’s face. It was appalled, and his mouth was dropped open into an oval form. His dreadlocks were hiding half his face but I could see that he was staring at me with horror. Hector came up from behind me then and pulled me off of the crew member. 

“Are you out of yer damn mind!” he shouted. “You just cost ‘im an eye!”

I put my blade away and cupped Hector’s face in my hands. I leaned forward and gently, lovingly even, kissed his lips. I had no true quarrel with him, but even so, I couldn’t look completely weak in front of the men. 

I wrapped my arms around his lower back and reeled him in. My lips were on his but not fully. “You need to learn how to be cruel, my love. Men will only respect and obey your command for as long as you show resilience to the enemy and those beneath you.”

Behind us though, I could hear Ragetti weeping. “Bloody she-devil!”

I turned to face him and he flinched, violently almost. He scrambled back against Pintel’s leg. Every other pirate went back to drinking and eating, and my two brothers, thankfully, were passed out amongst the golden piles. Turning back to Hector, I finally kissed him. Sparrow, from what I saw out of the corner of my eye, groaned and shuddered. Finally. I’d unnerved the infamous ‘captain’ for all he was worth.

However, I reeled in my older love and whispered in his ear, “When the tide is calm again, we’ll maroon Sparrow and then you’re free to have me and the Pearl. I promise.”

\---

Early morning came but due to the nature of the isle we were upon, the clouds slunk around and across the narrow way. The cove was covered in shadow and the sea’s mist sprayed among the rocks, our skins. The crew went onto each ship and hoisted Sparrow aboard. He was tied to the mast, per my order, and from afar, he gave me glare after glare, but I cared not.

I had the treasure of Cortes brought onto the Red Sophronia and placed securely in my cabin. It was chained and well-guarded by my two brothers, of course. I would trust no other with the duties and the privileges of my first mates. 

Hector, before taking command of the Pearl, came over to me and pondered briefly.

“I’ll be sailin’ towards the way of Rumrunner’s Isle. That’s where I’ll be leavin’ Sparrow. He’ll be starving and goin’ mad from the heat eventually, and after that, he’s on his own. Nothin’ else matters at the moment besides that. If I get ‘im out of the way, like you said, the Pearl is mine. Do we have an accord?”

  
I put my hands on the pegs of the wheel and sighed, my mouth closed in a brief smile. “Yes, my love. And when all is said and done, come to my quarters. I want you and everything that you are, and even more so,  _ I want the beating heart inside your chest _ …”   



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers!
> 
> I am so, so sorry for being gone! I was working myself almost to death and I was just having really shitty anxiety and depression problems. Thankfully, I'm on medication now and it's getting better! 
> 
> Here be another chapter. I'm working on more!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me and Michelina through all hell! We appreciate you all immensely!

The Sophronia was not far behind the Pearl come the mid-morning. The shallows were seemingly dark green with hints of tinted teal, but from afar, the waters ahead appeared quite black. Sparrow was tied to the mast of the ship, and he seemed as though he were going mad already. I looked through my telescope and watched intently. Chretien was up in the sails tying them off, and the rest of the crew attended to the deck as ordered.

In my cabin, the chest of Cortes waited. It waited to be moved upon the Black Pearl as a part of the accord I’d struck with Hector. I could feel how powerful the gold was, as its reverberations soared through the wood and into my body. The smell of the sea salt grazed my nostrils and the wind started to pick up. The sun vanished behind the clouds and I found the skies turning grey. The Caribbean was not a vast majority of water to be challenged. It did as it pleased and for those who sailed her watery body, one either fared well or struck ill.

In the first turn to port, we came across the isle. It was small, a spit of land with a few trees for shade and shelter. The sands were lightly tanned and from where I stood, it seemed desolate. Sparrow would enjoy the last remaining hours of his life here and with no one there to hear his cries or to see his smoke signals. He’d be marooned with no chance of escape.

Both ships were anchored in the bay and we both trudged through the waters and onto the small land. Hector had Sparrow in chains and Pintel, the shriveling little fat man, was aghast with fear of me; he led Sparrow onto the isle and left him there, running back towards the long boat. I stepped foot on the sand and met the gaze of the infamous captain. He seemed more or less annoyed with me, but I cared not.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, you devilish… minx,” he spat. “I don’t know how much help Hector will be to ya, but I’m reckonin’ at his age, who knows? His heart might give out while you two are…”

I struck him in the face then and he landed on his side. The sands caught him and barely had enough time to capture his fall. I was not in the mood for his lewd, half-arsed comments. His dreadlocks fell over his face and his eyes closed. I knew then that he was unconscious and the waters started to roll in with the tide. It soaked his clothes and as he lay there, I couldn’t help but feel impressed with how far we’d come. Hector unlocked the chains and threw a pistol ahead of Sparrow’s head where the powder wouldn’t be submerged in water. The rest of Sparrow’s effects were left with him too, along with his compass.

“What’s with the pistol?” I asked.

Hector loomed beside me and smiled with his rot showing. “One shot--- it’s customary for an enemy to receive at least one shot for either revenge or of course, to alleviate themselves of madness.”

My brow arched. “How appropriate.”

“We should be movin’ on,” Hector added. “The tide’s comin’ in high and we have yet to reach Tortuga. It’s going to be a bit of a sail, so let’s go.”

I walked up to him and wrapped an arm around his hip. My lips found his neck as did my teeth; I quickly left a bruise there, to show that he was mine. I was not in the notion to be sharing him with anyone and thus, he was mine. I had claimed him before but now, was showing it to be sure that no one was to touch him.

We started to walk away and as we entered the long boats, I looked over my shoulder back at Sparrow once. He still lay there unconscious, and he seemed no more than a simpering baby asleep. I wondered if he would ever have what it took to escape, or even if the cursed gods would allow him the pleasure of being poised against with Hector one day. If so, I dreaded the thought of my beloved being struck with that shot.

\--

Before we started to sail towards Tortuga, I grazed my cabin with Hector’s presence once more. He made love to me and ravaged me hungrily like an animal, and how I adored him for it. He was rough as was I, but his brute strength was delectable.

I took the liberty then of making a pipe for us to share, and we smoked it, brazen in our nakedness as we felt the ship rock beneath us. The currents were fierce but we cared not. We lay there in each other’s arms and thought of only ourselves. My hip was slowly healing, though a slight twinge of pain remained; he was ever careful to be aware of my wound. Alexander and Chretien were safe in the first mate’s cabin, and I knew their door was locked. The treasure of Cortes was safe within my own cabin, and if any blackheart dared to salvage some under my nose, I would know of it. I was not as foolish as most men believed.

As I lay there against Hector’s thinning chest, I took in the sight of him once more. I observed the shape of his hips, the soft nestle of hair surrounding his member, and I saw how his skin was slightly tanned from the burning of the sun. I wrapped my fingers in his beard carefully and left him a bruise upon his neck, especially from where I licked and suckled like a newborn babe. I had left my mark and now, everyone would see it. Still, something inside me trembled. It was growing out of fear, out of retaliation.

He breathed out the smoke from betwixt his lips and I found myself closing my eyes.

“Somethin’ be on yer mind, lass?”

I felt my skin grow with gooseflesh. There was something ominous in my heart, something unsure and yet unforeseen. I wondered if even thinking it was worth it. My eyes still closed with the thought of Jack meeting face-to-face with my love. Ten years it would take perhaps, or maybe not even so; with Sparrow, who knew?

“You,” I answered truthfully. “I am thinking of you.”

I looked up at him and saw his brow furrow over his eye. He seemed confused at first, then as he passed the pipe to me, I took it and he questioned me then. “Why are ye thinkin’ of me?”

Frustration was first and foremost on my mind then as Sparrow rejoined my thoughts. I could see his absurd smile and his off-balance figure still. I felt my eyes grow heavier with feeling and knew then that as I thought deeper, the more my heart was becoming stone.

“You should have let me kill him,” I said. “What if he comes back for you? What if he decides to use that pistol for the sole purpose in which you said it was for?”

Hector laughed at me. “That would be dependin’ on the fact if he ever be gettin’ off that spit of land.”

I turned away from him then and sat up, shaking my head. My hands were my physical support and my knees felt buckled. My hair hung off the back of my pale shoulders, and my breasts were exposed. The window within my cabin was cracked open, and thus, the mist and scent of the sea entered and chilled me. He sat up behind me as well and wrapped his arms around my torso. With one foul lick, he bit into my throat.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, lass,” he vowed. “Not even Jones could take a claim o’er me.”

I pushed him away from me and grew rather fearful of the situation. He pulled me down onto his chest and dug a hand into my hair, his fingers lacing my black strands. He kissed me, mauled my lips with his own and I felt at peace.

“I hate you,” I breathed, gasping for air. “I hate you, Hector.”

As he bit my lips, causing them to bleed into his own, we locked arms and legs together and smothered one another until air was foreign to us. “And ye’ll ne’er have another man for as long as ye live. Ye’re mine, and I own ye, body and soul.”


End file.
